I Finally Let Myself Say It

I finally let myself say it.

I've been waiting for someone else to say it. Another mom. Another missionary. Anyone really.

But no one ever did. They'd say, "Wow, how do you do it?" or watch while I fumble--oh how I fumble--at trying to control screaming, whining, disobedient children, be a “good” missionary, maintain my sanity.

A house full of sinners just like me.

And all the while I kept thinking, "I don't know how I do it. I just know I do because I don't have a choice." I have been in survival mode for months now and I just wanted someone to take my stubborn, I-won't-ask-for-help-but-please-offer-it-and-I’ll-take-it-in-a-hartbeat hand and say, "It's ok. This thing you're doing, it's hard work."

I wanted permission to feel overwhelmed and burnt out. I wanted to hear that this "if-I-can-just-get-through-the-day" mentality is normal at times—or almost always—and does eventually pass.

But no one ever said that. Which in my mind just confirmed that something was wrong. I should be able to do this with a smile on my face and patience in my voice.

Then I read this book and I felt the greatest sense of relief because finally someone said it.

This is hard, overwhelming, exhausting work.

And I'm doing just fine.

I'm doing just fine because I realize I can't do it right on my own. And I'm learning—learning to lean on the One who can make all things right and new.

There are days I can muster up just enough strength to get out of bed after a long night with my one year old who still wants to nurse and stumble to the kitchen as I remind my whining, apparently famished older children that, yes, they will get breakfast this morning, just like every morning.

I go through my days of washing dishes piled high and sweeping the floors for the umpteenth time and wiping noses and settling disputes and running to grab the laundry off the line because its starting to rain again. Somewhere in there I mean to sit down and practice the alphabet with my oldest and work on numbers again with my boy, but my littlest is tired and now it's time for lunch and I need to pump more water and my washer is beeping at me and a family of Indians just showed up and well, I'll just remind myself that my kids won't be 30 years old and not know their numbers and letters.

I look at my life and remind myself of this:

Raising little humans is hard work.

Being a wife is hard work.

Living in the jungle is complicated, hard, exhausting work.

Constantly thinking and speaking in your second or third language is mentally exhausting.

Adopting a child out of birth order, with a traumatic past, and that doesn't speak your first language is exponentially challenging.

Rarely getting to speak to or see family and friends is emotionally taxing.

Living in another culture is frustrating, lonely, exhausting at times.

Now take all these and add them up and you get a messy, tiring, hard job.

So I'm trying to lighten up a little myself. Let myself mess up every now and then [or often, as the case may be] and rather than beat myself up over it, I'm learning to slide back under that umbrella of grace and say, "Thank you, Jesus, that your mercies are new every day and that your grace endures forever".

I'm so thankful that God is sovereign and that He has a plan for my children, my husband, and me that can't be thwarted. I can freely acknowledge my incompetence and failures and it is in that freedom that I find the motivation to try again.

To lean on the One who makes all things new.

To let my failures be growing moments instead of defeating mountains.

To trust Him as he takes me through the fire to make me pure as gold.

To stop worrying about what others think and say, because God knows me.

God knows me.

This is hard work. Just like Jesus promised it would be.

But oh how sweet to know He also promised He'd walk us through it, patiently, lovingly, always.

Is it time you let yourself say it, too?

“For it was You who created my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You because I have been remarkably and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, and I know this very well. My bones were not hidden from You when I was made in secret, when I was formed in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw me when I was formless; 

All my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began.”

Psalm 139.13-16

When Living the Dream Feels More Like a Nightmare

“These are our ‘good ole’ days’, you know?” I said to him as we precariously swerved through the potholes of the washing-away-street, us and our three kiddos all crammed up on our motorcycle going home after a dinner out because neither of us could decide who was less tired enough to cook.

One day, these are the days we will look back on, smile and say, “Remember when…”

But today, that’s hard to see.

A friend asked me the other day if we were exhausted. I kind of laughed a little because that word just doesn’t seem to cut it. Exhausted is how you feel after a long day… but what word is there for how you feel after a long year?

We hear a lot of things:

“You guys are heroes!”

“How I wish I had a calling so great!”

“I would love to do what you do!”

“You are so inspirational!”

I equate that with how we feel reading the Bible sometimes. The stories are inspirational, empowering. We read them with excitement because we can see the whole story and know that, in the end, there is this triumphant victory.

And because we’re on the outside looking in.

But how did Moses feel looking out over the Red Sea as the Egyptians approached and everyone was calling out to him to DO something?

How did Daniel feel when he went free-falling into the lions’ den, his enemies snickering as he fell?

How did Noah feel on day 2 of the rain, hearing the screams of everyone around him drowning?

How did Joseph feel when he was imprisoned for doing everything right?

That’s where we are in this inspirational story.

We’re in the part where we know we’re doing what God has said to do, but it sure as heck doesn’t look like we thought it would.

We’re in the middle of the desert, thirsting ourselves, but everyone is calling to us for water.

So, like Moses, sometimes we call out to God in anger, “What are you doing?!”

And like Moses, we hit the rock to bring forth the water, instead of speaking like God commanded us to.

There are times we doubt like Sarai and ask for a sign like Gideon.

We were scheduled to go back to the States on furlough in just four weeks. We’ve planned it since January. And, oh, were we ever excited to get a breather.

But God said, “Not now.”

So, we wait.

Not always patiently and not always with a good attitude, but we wait.

And we cling to His promise that:

“Those who WAIT upon the Lord will renew their strength; they will mount up with wings as eagles. They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”

-Isaiah 40.31

Now, like so many times before, we ask you to pray for us. Pray for endurance, patience, faith, peace, rest, strength.

A great friend recently wrote us:

“Jesus gives rest to those he loves and His burden is easy and His yoke is light.  I know, I know, try telling that to Moses when he's looking at the Red Sea, or Joseph as he's being hauled out of the well, but if it wasn't for the Red Sea, there would be no miraculous parting, and if it wasn't for the well, there would be no miraculous deliverance.”

Pray that we will endure as God carries out His plan, set out from before time began.

In the end, He gets the victory regardless. Pray we will be found faithful.

And feel free to send all the encouraging e-mails and messages that you can ;)

Pray We Won't Be Moved

We're all just tired today.

I'm up with the sunrise to feed a hungry baby girl for the second or third time since I fell into my light sleep last night around 11pm. I can't remember if it was two or three times that she woke me up, announcing her empty belly.

Now I sit here rocking her bouncy chair with my foot, the only thing that will keep her content for now, guzzling a latte before our biggest little wakes, full force and full of life. And while I prepare mentally for his energy level so early in the day, I say a quick, "Thank you, Jesus", under my breath because just three days ago he lay lethargic and weak, battling a virus that stole the few ounces of fat his active body had, leaving him looking so fragile. Breaks a Mama's heart to see her baby that way.

Just as our boy recovers, though, it's Daddy's turn to take a hit. And we pray for quick healing as he is preparing to leave for the Jungle in just six short days. And I try to carry his load, too, because he needs the rest more than me right now. We pray I don't get the virus before I'm alone with two kids while Richard is away.

And we go through the motions of the day to day.

And we're all tired. We feel it in our heavy eyelids and our tense shoulders. Little man expresses it in whining and discontentment. Baby girl just sleeps away during the day. Peaceful baby dreams.

Seems like each day we get disappointing and sometimes even tragic news. So our physical exhaustion is coupled with mental and emotional exhaustion and sometimes it feels like too much. And we try to count our many blessings and "overflow with thankfulness" (Colossians 2.7) and trust that He is good. But some days it's just hard. Some days we ask why we're here. Some days we wonder if just maybe we misunderstood His calling because this doesn't "look right"....

Today I cling to the verse that we've honed in on as our "life verse" because it's the only thing that makes sense right now.

"But none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God." Acts 20.24

These days we make a conscious decision that these "things", they won't move us. 

The untimely death of friends and babies taken too soon. 
The long delays in visa progress and the discouraging outlook of aviation medicals.
The lack of friends and community to build us up and to pour in to. 
The long nights and early mornings with new baby and sick baby. 
The holidays away from those we've loved the longest.
The distance from where our heart is planted on the other side of this foreign country we now call home and no clue when we will be reunited. 
The frustrations of broken toilets and cars that won't start and ATMs denying cards and hot days with no wind to refresh and broken dishes and all those little things that add up to mountains if we don't keep our perspective in check. 

But we choose. We choose that none of these things will move us and we will not count our lives dear unto ourselves because this IS our calling and we ARE where He has us and it IS worth the hardships and the tired and the loneliness if we can finish our course with joy because the Gospel is worth that. 

And we know that the trials only serve to make us more like Him (James 1.2-3; 1 Peter 1.6-7, 4.12-13).

We ask for your prayers right now, because they're needed.

Pray for strength and rest. 
Pray for wisdom and faith.
Pray for peace and perspective. 

Pray we won't be moved.

Thank you, friends.

Some of the faces that motivate us to push through.

We Are Those People

It's 5:30am on Christmas Eve and I'm wide awake. Not because of the excitement of Christmas less than 24 hours away, but because of a quirky little girl who refuses to fall back asleep unless I'm actively bouncing her rocking chair with my foot. In fact, if it weren't for the calendar telling me today's date, I probably would have forgotten what tomorrow is. It just hasn't felt like Christmas this year.

It occurred to me yesterday, in fact, that we are "those people" this year. The ones everyone says, "Let's remember the people who don't have anyone to spend the holidays with this year."

We have no family here. And the two friends we do have here left today to go on vacation.

And to top it off, it's day five of Elliott being sick. So sick he and Richard spent all day at the hospital on Saturday.

And I started to throw another pity party like I did when Richard and Elliott went to the States without me.

Poor me. Poor us.

*sigh*

And God said, "Really?"

"Yes, really," I said. "We are all alone here. No friends, no family. Elliott's sick. We're all tired from lack of sleep. It doesn't even feel like Christmas.... half of the Christmas lights on our tiny tree went out, for goodness sake!!"

*crickets*

*sigh*

"I thought I was all you wanted for Christmas," He said after a pause long enough to make me realize how ridiculous I am.

Well, yeah. There's that.

The past several Christmases, God has worked in our hearts about the overindulgence that Christmas has become materially. We've done a great job as a society to turn it into a self-centered, retail crazed fiasco rather than a time to remember the God who became Man to rescue a fallen world.

We've forgotten the beautiful, life-giving story behind the season.

This year He's breaking it down even further for me. Not because it's bad to be surrounded by family and friends on Christmas. No, that is in fact good. 

But because He knew my heart needed further refining. 

Because in all my efforts to eradicate the materialism from the holiday, somehow I still didn't get it.

I'm still pouting over the external when God says He wants the purify the internal. My motives, my desires, my goals, my dreams. And He loves me enough to make it hard.

So this Christmas is different. Hard even. We miss family and we long for friends. But our hearts find contentment in the one who is our all in all. The one who became flesh and dwelt among us so that we could live a life of hope and joy, glorifying Him as Creator, Sustainer, All-Sufficient One.

So, yes. We are "those people". The ones Christ died for, redeemed, and now uses every means necessary to make us more like Him. And if it takes a little home-sickness to bring me closer to Him, well, I guess I'll take it. 

"You rejoice in this, though now for a short time you have had to struggle in various trials so that the genuineness of your faith--more valuable than gold, which perishes though refined by fire--may result in praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ."

1 Peter 1.6-7

Merry Christmas, everyone!! I hope this Christmas brings you closer to the One it's all about!

God, I Need You

God, I need you today.

I need you because I can't be the mom or wife I need to be.

I need you because I worry about what people are thinking and saying.

I need you because I seem to always forget that I should ask you for help before trying to take it on myself.

I need you because some days I'm scared of the calling you've given us and some days I'm afraid you picked the wrong person.

I need you because I'm tired.

I need you because people let me down. I need you because I let people down.

I need you because sometimes religion seems safer--easier--than faith.

I need you because the old me is still here, fighting for my energy and draining me in the process.

I need you because this world is so broken that sometimes it overwhelms me to the point I want to just give up.

And I thank you today.

Thank you that you are a good God.

That you have freed me from the chains of religion and doubt and fear and faithlessness and anger and bitterness and the cares of this world.

Thank you that I am free to be who you created me to be. Thank you that I have a hope and a future that is beautiful because of who You are and not because of who I am.

Thank you that I am your child and that you have redeemed my soul and that I can be a slave to you and not myself.

Thank you that when I feel overwhelmed I can dig deep into your Word and by the time I'm done reading my heart and soul are screaming: "Thank you that I am FREE!"

God, you are so good.

Dear God, I Think I get it

Dear God,

It's me again.

Today, Richard was cussed out by the blessing [in disguise?] that you have put in our lives.

We have sacrificed our time and resources to help them. We have given above and beyond what we thought we could give. We've spent money, gas (and that's not cheap if you haven't noticed...), time, and energy to do everything we possibly can to help them in their desperate time of need. I've driven many miles, waited in waiting rooms for many hours, sacrificed time with my family, answered 100 phone calls and made just as many, stood in the heat for more than an hour because my car wouldn't start but I needed to get to the next place of help before they closed. I've given and given and asked others to give. Literally all of our focus has gone to them over the last 72 hours because we know that that is what you require of us. That is what your love tells us to do.

Their response? Doubting. Hateful words. Lack of effort. Ungratefulness. Selfishness. Greediness. And more hateful words.

And to top it all off, we finally come up with a solution that will help them out in the long run. It's uncomfortable now. It's not what they want now, but it will have the most long term good, and they tell us it's not good enough. That it's unfair.

Me? I sit here exhausted. My mind is tired. My body is tired. And my heart is heavy.

And I get it. I get at least one small part of what You are teaching me.

You have given it all for me. You have listened and held me and comforted me. You wrote an entire book for me. You promised to always be with me and to love me unconditionally. You said I didn't need to ever worry because You are in control. You said You have a beautiful plan for my life. And You went so far as to sacrifice Your only Son to prove that.

My response? I doubt You. I say faithless things to You. I'm selfish and greedy. I'm ungrateful and I don't trust You.

But at the end of the day, You still love me. You still listen to my complaining and never turn Your back on me. You keep your promises and always forgive me when I wrong You.

So tomorrow I will follow your example. I'm going to wake up and spend the day loving them in the same way that You have loved me. I'm going to spend more time and money and gas. I'm going to spend more time away from my family. I'm likely going to spend hours doing things that are inconvenient and uncomfortable for me.

I'm going to do that because no matter how much I sacrifice, it pales in comparison to your unending mercy and grace in my life. And demonstrating Your love to others is the very least that I can do

Thank You for trusting me with Your name like that.

'Til the Work is Done,
Ashley

(Disclaimer: To those of you who know the full story, only one half of the couple was as described above. The other half was very grateful and is working hard to better the situation.)